Hii!! I really adore your stydyblr and hope you'll answer these, but it's tots okay if you don't want to!! 🌙 pastel. piercings. white bed sheets. marble. 🌙
hi angel!!
pastel + marble: already answered
piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?i do wear makeup!! i wouldn’t say it’s a lot though, and my makeup tends to be pretty natural. i just like wearing it + the process of applying it, it’s pretty fun and i like the confidence boost it gives me!
white bed sheets: what is your nighttime routine?work out, shower, do my skincare routine, listen to music in bed and read fanfics/scroll through my fave blogs before falling asleep
Summary: The moment of awareness that a person you have known for years still has an inner life that you will never be able to map, no matter how either of you try.
He felt nothing. Saw nothing. Heard nothing. He could only compare it to standing in a cramped, dark room, blindfolded, and tied to a bed. And as freaked out as he should've been, as much as those were the things he feared the most, Clint didn't exactly panic. There was a strange peace about it. How or why he was like that, however, was a completely different question. So he lay awake, or not exactly awake, whatever state he was in, and just thought to himself. He thought a lot. Sometimes it was just small things, like what time was it, what day was it. Other times, it was complete contemplation on his life, what went wrong, what he would have changed, what he wanted, what he wished for. It was probably the most reminiscing Clint ever really did. There were times when he wanted to wake up so he didn't have to keep thinking about these things. But then he realized he couldn't wake up. The panic set in once he realized. He was trapped. It wasn't like when he was stuck in a small space and got claustrophobic. No, he was stuck in his own head, and that was probably the worst kind of trapped he could've been. Every now and then, he would hear something. At first they were only muffled sounds, things he could hardly distinguish, but in time it became easier for him to understand. It always varied from voices he recognized to voices he'd never heard in his life, and for the life of him it was always so hard to make out what they were saying. He'd hear his name, and want to respond, but his voice wouldn't work. So he continued laying in his abyss, listening to the sad tones of his friends, or the disheartened speeches made by strangers. It took him a while before he realized that some of the disembodied voices were actually doctors. Sometimes, he would feel things as well. The archer would feel needles in his arms, or something cold on his chest, just above his heart, and damn if it didn't remind him of Loki, of his scepter and the Tesseract. It often spurred long thoughts of his god, of how they'd gone from that to where they were today. He'd often ask himself what Loki was doing, if he was alright, gettin' himself fed and all that. The last thing he'd said was as he walked out his apartment door was "I'll be home soon". Hopefully, that wasn't a lie. He'd gotten restless at some point. 'I want to wake up now. I'm done with this crap. I want to get outta here.' He thought to himself, and tried with all his willpower to move, especially once he heard voices nearby once more. 'I'm right here!' He wanted to call to them, 'Just shake me awake already!' But no one heard him. Instead he felt a hand on his, and he wanted so desperately to hold onto it, it didn't matter whose it was, he just wanted to give some sort of sign that he could feel it. So he only listened to the conversation going on in the room, feeling his blood run cold. Everyone sounded so... sad. So hopeless. The words he made out the most terrified him to the core. "Not going to make it." "Isn't going to wake up." "Dead." "Say your goodbyes." It was right about then that Clint was ready to give up on himself. But then he heard her voice. Natasha. She was still fighting for him. The archer could barely make out the angry Russian, could feel the hand in his squeezing. And he wanted to hold on back, to tell her he was still worth fighting for, to let her know he could come back. Instead he only felt her hand leave his, and he wanted to cry out for her not to leave. His only response was the sound of footsteps leaving, and another needle in his arm. They gave him a week to wake up. Could he even do it? How long was a week? One night (or day, he'd lost track), Clint lay, listening quietly to the silence around him. 'Maybe I should just die.' He mused silently to himself. 'I'm practically dead already. It'd be easier if they just disconnected me already. I tried. M'sorry, Tasha. Loki.' His apology, however, didn't seem to go unheard. Between the steady beeping that was always around somewhere, he heard a door close, and footsteps. He felt a shift of weight, and could only assume someone was sitting next to him. The cold hand on his hand would have made him flinch, but it brought a strange comfort, cooling him down. "...In hindsight, I should have insisted upon a vow as well." The voice jolted him away from his thoughts, and he wanted so hard to open his eyes to see. Loki. He was there. "I ought to have made it as difficult for you to leave me as you seem to have made it for me... to leave you." 'I'm still here, boss.' The archer cried in his mind, and he wanted to wrap his arms around him, to hold him close and comfort him, but he knew he couldn't. 'Damnit! Wake up!!' He screamed at himself. No matter how he tried, his eyes wouldn't open. He wouldn't move. His body wouldn't cooperate with him. 'I don't wanna go like this... I can't...' It was getting hard and harder to hang on to his last thread of life. There was press of lips against his temple, and he could practically feel the words being mumbled. "Would you promise me now? Do not leave me, Hawk." 'I don't wanna leave you...' Clint sobbed silently to himself. 'I'm sorry...' Who would have thought that his last thought would have been an apology. "You know... that I love you, yes?" 'You... love me?... ... I love you too...' The god waited. Silence. Loki could have sworn he saw a smile on the archer's face. He watched in silence as a single tear rolled down his cheek, before the steady beeping in the background slowed to a single hum. The god stood up, running his knuckles against the once warm skin. His hand drifted slowly down to Clint's chest, right above his heart. No warmth. No life. There was no beating. "I truly wish I had made you promise me sooner."
Notes: College AU. Lots of assholes. Tarot cards are a thing.
Summary: New beginnings and adventures, pleasure, passion. He rushes ahead, thoughtless and rash, doing before thinking, obeying instincts.
In which the gang goes to college, fights happen, new friends are made, some shenanigans ensue, and everything turns out alright for everyone in the end. For once.
Chapter 1: The Tower
“Are you alright?”
The voice was quiet, a godsend to Clint’s oversensitive ears. His eyes cracked open—the room was dark, yet another success for him. But he didn’t recognize it. It smelled like incense and books, and the couch he was lying on was certainly not his own. It was too comfortable for that. He sat up a little, leaning on the armrest of the sofa and blinked away the sleep. His head was pounding. He didn’t even remember coming here, but given that he felt like his insides had been through a blender he guessed that he had drank too much the night previous. Though why he’d come here he had no idea. He didn’t recognize the area at all. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he croaked out, his voice hoarse. “Could use a drink, though.” He pondered this for a moment, then spoke up. “Where am I?”
“Give me a moment to get something ready. I don’t have any alcohol and don’t intend to let you have any, besides. You’ll thank me for it later,” the other replied as he stepped into Clint’s range of visibility. He looked a little familiar from what he could tell in the low lighting, with long, dark hair reaching his shoulders and pale skin, but his brain couldn’t put the pieces together. “You’re in my room. You came stumbling in here a few hours ago, in the middle of the day on a Saturday, drunk as hell and asking me to protect you from evil spirits or something. You may want to watch that in the future. I’ve heard the penalties for being drunk in substance-free buildings are fairly hefty, and are probably worse if one is a freshman as we are.” The figure waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not planning on telling anyone, not when it was as amusing as it was. You can leave whenever you feel up to it.”
“Do you want me to?” Clint asked. The statement had seemed rather blunt, as if he’d wanted to be left to his own devices as quickly as possible. Despite what the other man said, he still wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here. He didn’t remember drinking at all this morning. Though with everything that had happened to him recently, it wasn’t entirely out of the question that he’d drunk himself into practically a stupor and then gone looking for help. The last week or so had been hard on him especially, with a lot of happenings that he simply couldn’t explain. “Not particularly,” he responded. “I just figured, since I’m sort of the freak around here, that you wouldn’t want to stay very long.” Clint winced and shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I think you seem well-adjusted enough,” and this made the dark-haired one snicker and shake his head while hiding a grin, “and I don’t really care what the others on this floor think of me for hanging out with you.” He sucked in air through his teeth, sounding a little angry. “Not anymore.”
“A falling out?” the other asked, pouring the contents of a tea kettle into two cups. Clint shook his head again. “No, I just stopped giving a shit. I have bigger things to worry about than floor politics. And… well, I guess a little of it is backlash from a falling out.” He shrugged. “Like I said. Bigger fish to fry. I can’t waste my time worrying about these dicks when I’ve got other things on my plate. Things that I hope you can help me with.”
“Your homework?” he asked sardonically. “I’m sure I can help you with that.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” Clint said. “That’s my job. No, I need support. People that can help me. I’m going through a rough time. What’s your name again?”
“You don’t say.” The other man handed the blonde a cup of tea. “Laufeyson. Complementary hot drink for stopping by.”
“I meant your first name,” he said as he took the cup. The other man sighed. “Loki. Ridiculous name, I know. Happy now?”
“Satisfied, I s’pose.” Clint looked down at the cup, watching the steam curl. “I’m Clint.”
“Barton. I know. The archer from Iowa. Was this falling out you spoke of, perchance, with your brother? I’ve heard a lot about him. He doesn’t sound much like you.” Clint shook his head, jerking his head back from the drink he took of his tea. It was still far too hot. “He isn’t, and yeah. It’s been a long time coming, but all my friends were his friends, except for Tasha. She’s been with me since…” A shrug. “Middle school, probably. And we’re not doing so hot, either. Third breakup in as many months, but we’re pretty sure this one’s sticking because otherwise we’ll come out of it hating one another. Best friends who made the mistake of dating, and all that.” Loki nodded sympathetically. “My brother had a friend that I was somewhat close to. We dated for some time before we decided it wasn’t quite right for us. And Thor—my brother has been with his girlfriend for several years now.” He winced, as though it physically pained him to think of his brother. Clint blinked. “You alright there?” Loki took a drink of his tea. “As alright as I’ll ever be. My brother and I had a fight just before I went off to college, and I still feel bad about it. I’d… just found out I was adopted, and…” Loki sighed. “A story for another time. I’d rather not get into it.”
“You don’t get visitors often, do you?” Clint asked with a smile. He was pretty eccentric, and with all the assholes on this floor (who he had only a week ago called friends) he probably had a pretty hard time leaving his room without being teased, let alone having anyone over. “I get visitors never,” he responded. “Can you think of anyone that would want to come in here other than me?”
“I would.” Clint glanced around as he sipped his tea, noting the coffee table in front of him. “It’s kind of neat. Besides, this isn’t even the only floor in the building, let alone the only building on campus. Not everyone is like this.”
“Believe me, I know, but most say that my Halloween decorations were up three months too early.” He shrugged, running a finger around the rim of his own cup. “I suppose now they’re more thematically appropriate. I do have a few friends, though one of them is primarily a friend of my brother and stays around me to make sure I’m doing alright for him. Might I ask… do you remember why you specifically came to me?” He looked intrigued. “It strikes me as a little odd, is all.”
“I…” Clint sighed. “Guidance counselors haven’t been able to help me, and neither has the advice of close friends and relatives. So I figured I’d give some old-fashioned mystical shit a try and see how it goes. Worst case scenario, I only come out of this experience with a new acquaintance that I know I can talk to on my floor when times get low.” Loki smirked. “And best case scenario?” he asked, a curious lilt to his voice as if he were slightly invested in the response.. The archer shrugged. “An actual result, I guess. Could get better than that. Who knows, this is mystical shit we’re talking about here. Fate works in mysterious ways, or something.” Loki snickered again, shaking his head as he put the tea on his desk. “And what sort of brand of mystical shit would you like to try today?”
“Whatever you’ve got to offer. I’m not exactly well-versed in the different types. Do you have a preferred type of mystical future prediction that you’d like to share?” Loki smiled. “As a matter of fact, I do. I bought some tarot cards before I got here and I’ve had some time to get attuned to the deck, so if you’d like to try your luck with that, I’d be happy to oblige.” The archer grinned, taking another drink of his tea. “Yeah, sure. Never seen one of these work before.” The dark-haired one laughed as he reached over onto the bookshelf, pulling out an engraved wooden box. When he undid the latch, Clint noticed that the inside looked to be some sort of green velvet, or some other type of cloth. He sat down on the other side of the table beside the couch and started shuffling the cards. “Now, you don’t need to tell me your exact question if you only have one, but if you’d like a spread I’ve got to have a bit of information so I can determine how many cards to draw.” Clint seemed to ponder this for a moment, then responded, “I’ve got a few things I want to know about the situation. For starters, I want to test them out and see if they can clarify how I’m feeling about the situation, since I’m not always sure. Second, I want them to clarify how it really stands, then one about the resolution, and finally one about how I’m going to get there.”
“Alright, so a four-card spread. Keep in mind that in certain circumstances, these cards could represent a person in the situation, or how it stands, or how you feel about it, or any multitude of things, really. It just promises that whatever is pictured has relevance to the problem at hand somehow. If you could cut the deck,” he said, holding it out, “that’ll make sure it’s more accurate.” Clint picked up roughly the top half of the deck and handed it to Loki, who put it back on the bottom and dealt out four cards in front of him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” His hand hovered over the card closest to his right, the far left from the way Clint was facing. His gaze shifted between Loki and the card, then gave a curt nod. “Yeah. I want to be able to sort out my thoughts. And maybe draw a few conclusions if at all possible about what I need to do next.”
“Fair enough. This should be about how you see yourself.” His nimble fingers reached down and flipped over the card, revealing it to be an upside-down image of a pair of cups. “Ah,” he said quietly, then looked up at Clint, who was briefly transfixed by the beauty of the art depicted on its face. “Unstable and conflicted. You believe yourself to have made a premature commitment.” The blonde stared at him, his mouth ever-so-slightly agape. “How did you…” Loki shook his head. “Just reading what the cards are telling me.” The results were startling in their accuracy. They told Clint of his situation, one of grief and heartbreak, and how the resolution was to stand up for what he believed in and be reborn anew. It had been better for he and Natasha to break up permanently, he decided, and pursuing her would be foolish since what he needed was a new start. She was a good friend as well and he didn’t want to lose that, especially with the history they had with one another. There was another card, a fourth, but Loki had looked rather shocked at that one and had bitten his tongue on the meaning of it. Clint was disappointed, since this was the one that would point him to his resolution, but decided not to bring it up at the time. “Can I ask a question?” he said after Loki had shuffled the cards back into the deck. “For you and the cards.”
“Certainly. What might it be?” He looked down, tapping the deck into place and making sure they lined up. Clint swallowed his pride. “I want to know where you think I should go from here. Not with Natasha. With my life.”
“I think that with how conflicted you seem to be, you need to figure out what you want before you start worrying about what other people want. You should be who you want to be and do what you want to do as long as you don’t try to hurt anyone in the process. That’s what I’m trying to live by now, since I’ve had a dramatic shift in my way of living. I’ve found it to be effective, and you may as well.” Loki set the cards on the table again. “You can also cut the deck and take a card off the top, if you’d like. That should give you something, maybe a little more personal to you than my advice.” Clint shook his head. “Nah. Yours was good enough. What time is it?” he asked offhandedly, glancing around. Loki shrugged. ”Around four thirty. Would you like to go for a walk? I was planning on going anyway, but I’d prefer if you joined me.”
“Sure. Why not. Where are we going?” Clint grabbed his coat from the couch and shrugged it on. He must have brought it with him when he left his room, maybe thinking he’d have to stagger across campus or something. He really wasn’t sure why he’d brought his coat, now that he thought about it, but he was glad that he did. Loki picked up his keys and headed toward the door. ”A pond.” The blonde raised an eyebrow. ”Why?”
“I go there every day. It helps me think.” Loki shrugged, walking outside of the door and waiting for Clint, who followed and watched the dark-haired one lock the door. ”So you believe in magic, huh? That’s a little… strange, I guess,” he said as they left for the stairwell. Loki snorted. “Just because they put it in the fantasy section of a library does not make it so. You’ve seen its capabilities firsthand and remain a skeptic. I don’t fault you, it’s your nature as a person to be wary of such things. But it makes far more sense than most religions, or so I’ve found.” After descending the stairs, Clint pushed the door open and held it open for Loki, who smiled and gave him a nod of what appeared to be thanks. He hadn’t put on a jacket or coat, which the archer found to be a bit peculiar. It was a chilly day for late October, and Loki didn’t even look remotely bothered by it. “I haven’t seen its capabilities firsthand. I think you’re just good at reading people and you could tell from past experiences with me that—” Loki interrupted him with a short, almost pained yelp of a laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, Barton, before tonight I hardly paid attention to you. I only knew of you through connection to your brother, whom has not been particularly kind to me. I was not sure what to expect from you.”
After this statement, Loki was silent for a while, and the walk to the pond bordered on awkward. Clint stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and swore under his breath. “Forgot my keys,” he said, “and the door’s locked, probably, after all that’s gone down today.” Loki smirked. “I’m alright with you staying with me for as long as you need. Presumably until your roommate eventually has to leave the room.” Clint snickered. “Yeah, basically. You know, I think it’s pretty lucky that you got a single room. Usually that doesn’t happen to freshmen.” Loki shook his head. “My father paid for it. He did not want me to have to deal with others ridiculing me or asking me for money once they learned of my identity.”
“Wait, your brother is that Thor? Like, heir to the metaphorical throne of Asgard Corporation?” Clint only had a passing knowledge of the business, as the CEO was somewhat secretive about his public life and had managed to stay out of the way of the paparazzi for years. Still, the name of the next in line had inevitably leaked, and it wasn’t like there were an incredible amount of people who had anything close to a secret identity that were named Thor. Loki rolled his eyes. “Yes. Though I’d prefer that we kept that between us.” With a halfhearted snort and a shrug, Clint replied, “Fine by me. How about both of us just pretend we don’t have older brothers?” He paused for a moment, then added, “Or family. We can do that here, since we’re away from everyone.” They finally made their way to the pond, where Loki gestured for Clint to take a seat on the nearby chair-swing before sitting down himself. “Unfortunately, that would be difficult for me. I do have Steven, after all. Something of a Thor away from Thor, with how little he understands about popular culture, and his leaning toward athleticism. He is kind, though, and means well. Keeps me out of trouble.” He interlaced his fingers, looking down at his hands. “Perhaps you should accompany me when I attend the gaming club meeting later tonight. You might meet him that way, should he show up. He’s a bit like an older brother to my other friends as well. We may provide a suitable alternative to your former friends, I think.”
“Maybe.” Clint looked over at him. “Still think you’re full of shit with the cards thing. You seem like the kind of person that hangs out in the food court at the mall and just observes people, because people are funny.” Loki chuckled. “You are more perceptive than I. Though I do enjoy people watching, I am passable at best at reading humans. I am far better at reading cards.” He paused for a moment, glancing over at Clint, then continued. “Besides, had you not put your doubts aside temporarily, they would have been just that: cards. But you put faith in them, and they did not disappoint.”
“I didn’t put faith in your cards, Loki.” Clint looked out onto the water. “I put faith in you. It was you that didn’t disappoint.”
For a long time, Loki just stared out at the water, completely silent. After what could’ve been mere minutes or hours, Clint didn’t know, a small voice finally spoke up, and it took several seconds for him to realize that it was the boy sitting next to him.
“No one’s ever told me that before.”
Clint wasn’t really sure what to say to comfort him, or if he even wanted comfort. He wasn’t really very good at judging. So he gave Loki a halfhearted pat on the shoulder, then remembered something he’d thought to be important. “Remember the fourth card? The Fool, I think. Why were you so hasty about putting it back in the deck? That was my conclusion. I don’t know how it’s supposed to help if I don’t even know what it means.” Loki snorted, pressing a hand to his cheek as if to stop the inevitable tears. “It’s… it’s sort of my card. It’s a card that represents passion and chaos, following instincts and things like that. I’d always thought of it as sort of my card, since my namesake is the god of mischief and trickery. I’m not sure what the cards were trying to say there, so I decided to brush it off.” He shrugged, removing his hand and placing it on his lap. “Maybe they were talking to me, telling me to help you. I can certainly see why. You’re already far more supportive than almost anyone else has been.” Clint shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I like you, though, and I’d like to hang out with you more. If that’s alright with you.”
“That is fantastic,” Loki replied, half-grinning. “I look forward to it.”
And though he may have been named for the god of lies, Clint felt that right now, Loki couldn’t have been more genuine if he tried.
It's like you're a drug
It's like you're a demon I can't face down
It's like I'm stuck
It's like I'm running from you all the time
And I know I let you have all the power
It's like the only company I seek is misery all around
It's like you're a leech
Sucking the life from me
It's like I can't breathe
Without you inside of me
And I know I let you have all the power
And I realize I'm never gonna quit you over time
It's like I can't breathe
It's like I can't see anything
Nothing but you
I'm addicted to you
It's like I can't think
Without you interrupting me
In my thoughts
In my dreams
You've taken over me
It's like I'm not me
It's like I'm not me
